


take the 1:30 train

by tfa2141



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Before We Go (2014) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Jamie plays the trumpet, New York City, Slow Burn, combines plot points from THOBM and BWG, inspired by before we go, strangers to... something (no spoilers), warning: dialogue heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27942122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfa2141/pseuds/tfa2141
Summary: Dani Clayton is stranded in New York City with a marriage on the brink of collapse.Jamie Taylor is a street musician with a checkered past - who can’t leave well enough alone.Or: The Dani/Jamie “Before We Go” AU.
Relationships: Dani Clayton & Edmund O'Mara (mentioned), Dani Clayton & Jamie, Dani Clayton/Jamie, Hannah Grose/Owen Sharma
Comments: 33
Kudos: 123





	1. first glance

**Author's Note:**

> This original plot and inspiration for the characters comes from the 2014 film “Before We Go” – which is a brilliant watch if you’ve never seen it. I don’t own the rights to any of these characters or ideas, just a spin off for my own personal enjoyment. (And yours, if you’re reading this. Thanks!) Right – let’s get going, then.

_There has to be a word for it,_ Jamie thinks – the level calm that comes with finding silence in a place that’s normally so busy. It’s the vortex of people’s lives, and the awareness that, with a few exceptions, she’ll never know what drives their mad pace of movement. It feels a bit like being in the eye of a hurricane – it’s what brought her to New York in the first place, and what led her to Grand Central Station tonight. She’s a musician, after all – places and feelings like this inspire good music.

The crowd has waned over the last few hours – last trains leaving for the night, people bound home or to the next stop on their journey – but a few stragglers linger around the station, and so she plays. She brings the trumpet to her lips and begins a gentle melody, one that expands and seems to fill the yawning marble space with warmth. She smiles, noticing an older couple that’s begun to sway back and forth near the opal clock in the center of the concourse.

As she winds down her song, she feels a pang in her heart as the dancing couple laughs and breaks apart – it reminds her both of what she lost, not so long ago, and what she’s here hiding from. The older gentleman ambles over, flashes Jamie a wink, and drops some loose bills into her trumpet case before taking his wife by the arm and shuffling away to the tracks. She looks around at a smattering of applause coming from the remaining patrons in the terminal, bows exaggeratedly, and takes a seat against the wall. She’s not in it for the money, never has been – _‘f I was, I’d be in the wrong profession,_ she used to joke – but living in New York, every bit helps.

It’s then that her phone rings, and shakes her out of her thoughts. She fishes through her coat pockets to find the device, and glances at the caller ID. _Owen._ One of the maintenance workers shuffles by with a cleaning cart and peers in her direction, like she’s disturbed his routine by taking a phone call.

“Hey love, where are you?”

“Still at the station,” she sighs. A beat. “She there?”

“She’s here.” A noise passes over the line as Owen shuffles the phone between his shoulder and his ear. In the background, Jamie hears the commotion of the crowd dull as if he’s stepped outside. “But she’s with some bloke. I’m sorry,” he placates. “You still coming?”

“I don’t know.” She feels a long-cracked piece of her heart chip away further.

“Okay. Well… I’ll send you the address. Hannah and I’d love to see you if you can make it.”

“Thanks, Owen.”

“Take care.” She can hear his half-smile through the phone as he hangs up, and catches herself wondering just how bad of an idea it would be to show up, after all. She sits, back pressed against the marble walls, idly fiddling with the trumpet’s keys, and lets the uneasy cold creep into her bones.

The quiet is broken by the sound of running feet – heels, to be exact – and a loud clatter. Jamie looks up in time to catch a glimpse of a blonde woman in a long coat jog past, her phone falling from her pocket and onto the unforgiving floor below. She doesn’t seem to notice.

“Excuse me?” Jamie calls. “Hey, excuse me?”

She looks back momentarily, and then keeps running – like she’s already made up her mind that the phone doesn’t matter. She disappears around the corner to the east tracks, and the footsteps recede rapidly.

Jamie should leave it, she really should – but at best, she could get this woman’s cell phone back to her. At worst, she could turn it over to station security until the stranger is able to claim it. She groans and climbs to her feet, collecting her coat and her trumpet bag and the woman’s phone. Turning it over, she peers at the screen and grimaces: the front is covered in a deep spiderweb of scratches and fragmented glass, and it won’t seem to turn on. “Shite,” she mutters.

She hears the same clacking of feet, and looks up in time to see the woman come back around the corner. She has a distant look in her eyes – _lost_ , if Jamie had to put a word to it. _Distraught._ “Sorry, excuse me?” she tries again, offering the phone between them. “Think you dropped this.”

The woman looks at Jamie and brushes a stray bit of hair out of her face. “Oh. Thank you,” she offers. “Thanks so much.”

Jamie gives her a placating half-smile and stuffs her hands in her coat pockets. “Least I could do. Might not get very far on a cracked screen, mind you.”

An announcement chimes from the loudspeaker overhead. “ _Due to station safety regulations, Grand Central Terminal is now closing. The station will re-open at 5:30am tomorrow morning.”_

The blonde doesn’t seem to have a care in the world about her cracked cell phone, or Jamie, for that matter, as she flags down a maintenance worker nearby. Jamie’s a New Yorker – thank yous are a rarity in this city, so she’s not bothered. “Excuse me, what does that mean? The station’s closing?”

He barely looks up from his post as he cracks open a cardboard box and shoves it in a cart. “Means everyone has to leave. No trains until the morning.”

“Could I use this ticket at another station, then?”

“Won’t help you. Penn Station’s closing too. There’s a line for cabs outside.”

“I don’t need a cab,” her voice waters. “I missed my train and I have to get home tonight – “

_“The station doors will be closing in ten minutes,”_ the PA system rings cheerily. The maintenance man wheels away. Jamie watches as the woman runs a hand through her hair in frustration, then one under her eyes, and walks off slowly out the front doors.

For the second time tonight, Jamie thinks to herself that she’d really be better off leaving this alone. Go to the reception, face her demons, get home in time to catch a few hours of sleep before tomorrow – but something pulls her back towards this stranger. _Was once a woman alone in the city too_ , she thinks. She shrugs her coat on, throws her trumpet bag on her shoulder, and begins to follow a few paces behind. Her own cell phone pings with a text from Owen –

_Reception is at 132 Bly. We’ll be here for a while still._

– before beeping a “low battery” signal. She sighs and stuffs it into her front pocket, and pulls her scarf up around her neck in preparation for the winter chill outside.

She’s met with the familiar cacophony of New York City as she pushes her way outside – cars honk some blocks away, people spill loudly onto the streets after last call, and cabs idle on the curb, spewing exhaust into the frost-tipped night. Jamie bites back a shiver, and scans the area for the woman. She’s almost relieved not to see her on first glance – _maybe she figured out a way home_ – until she spots a familiar figure under a nearby overhang at the cab line.

The blonde has one glove off, stuffed hurriedly in her coat pocket, and is trying everything in her power to revive her broken cell phone. Jamie’s no tech expert, but she’s got a strong hunch the thing might be beyond saving. The woman seems to know it too, by the way she shakes it one final time in exasperation before shoving it in her (admittedly very expensive-looking) coat.

There’s still a decent crowd outside, so Jamie doesn’t feel out of place approaching the stranger. “Sure you’re alright?” she nudges.

The blonde looks up at her – really _looks_ at her, for the first time – and Jamie notices just how blue her eyes are. They’re a shade she’s not sure she’s ever seen before. “Yeah, I – I’m fine,” she manages. Her tone isn’t convincing, and they both know it.

A little levity, then. “Planning on standin’ out here all night, then?”

“My purse was stolen,” the woman responds. _Well. So much for that._ “So, now all I have to my name is this $13 ticket for a train that already left and a broken phone.”

“Shite. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ll figure something out.” She pauses. When she speaks again, it’s stronger – more convincing. “I don’t need your pity, really.”

Jamie scoffs. “Well. Wasn’t gonna offer, but now you’re _definitely_ not getting it. I _was_ gonna offer to split a cab,” she levels, rooting through her wallet. “I have about $80 in cash, give or take. How far out are you?”

“Boston, give or take,” the woman deadpans. Jamie nods.

“So north of Harlem, then.” She gets an idea, and flags down the nearest cab driver at the curb. The man rolls down his window and levels her with a questioning stare. “Right, this woman needs to get to Boston in a rush.”

“New Haven,” the blonde interjects. “I had my purse stolen, and it’s an emergency.”

“Right, like I said. When she gets home, she’ll cut you a check.”

The cabbie sighs. “Let me get this straight. You want me to drive all night, into the morning, and get dead time on the way back, to get an ‘I owe you’? Are you out of your mind, Queen Victoria?”

“Ignoring the accent comment, mate. Look how she’s dressed – she’s good for it. What kind of purse was it?”

“Prada,” the woman offers. Jamie’s eyes boggle for a moment at the price tag.

“See? She’s good for it.”

The cab driver considers the turn of events. “Would be over a grand. 250 miles at $2.50 a mile, times two for the dead heading back? I don’t even have a license to operate there. Would be taking a huge risk for someone on trust only.”

Jamie wonders for a moment – this complete and total stranger, who she’s found herself inexplicably drawn to, is probably a trap. A beautiful trap, stuck in the freezing cold with nowhere to go. She decides then, reaches into her pocket and fishes out her wallet. “Right. You take card?”

“Are you kidding? You can’t pay for that,” the blonde objects.

“Can and should are two different things, love,” Jamie replies. It _is_ stupid, and she knows it. “You’ll pay me back when you get home tomorrow.”

“You don’t know me at all.”

Jamie cocks an eyebrow at her and grins. “When have you ever _not_ paid me back?”

“Card’s declined,” the cab driver offers unhelpfully. He hands the piece of plastic back out the window, and for a moment Jamie thinks about tossing it discus-style into the nearest storm drain. It’d be dramatic, at least. “Nothing I can do for you folks.”

“Shite. Okay. I can call a friend,” she decides. Reaching into her pocket, she fumbles around for Owen’s contact information, and manages to get halfway there before her own cell phone flashes a black screen – a dead battery.

“Do you have anything at all that works?” the blonde fires, perhaps a little sharper than intended.

Jamie scoffs and raises her hands in mock surrender. “My fault, didn’t realize I was holding up the line of people tryin’ to help you. There _are_ other things I could be doing with my Friday night,” she throws back.

“Oh, sorry for holding you back,” the woman replies.

“Feeling’s mutual, then.” Jamie shrugs, and the stranger goes to leave. “Get home safe, yeah?”

She doesn’t turn around.


	2. ticking clock

**_Dani_ **

She’s well and truly fucked, then. Bundling her coat tightly around her, she slips her gloves back on and takes inventory of her current situation.

Purse stolen? Check.

No cash on hand, no ID, nothing.

Cell phone shattered? Check.

Can’t call a friend, can’t call a ride, can’t use a map.

Missed the train home? Check.

The end of life as she knows it.

Shit, shit, shit.

She’s startled out of her thoughts by a loud crash and breaking bottles up ahead – there are three men, stumbling awkwardly up the street towards her and clearly well past drunk. One of them whistles, smacks his friend on the arm, and they begin to point. Alarm bells go off in her head.

Add to the list: “woman alone in an unfamiliar city well past dark”.

As they move closer, she suddenly feels a strong arm go around her shoulders, keeping her close.

“Sorry I’m late, love.”

The accent is all too familiar, and as she turns her head she sees the woman from the train station. Something in her eyes tells her to go along with the act, and so she does – focuses straight ahead and keeps walking strong. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the men back off from their approach, clearly not inebriated enough to prey on _two_ women alone in the city well past dark. Once they’re safely out of earshot, the brown-haired woman unwinds her arm from around her shoulders and gives her an apologetic smile.

“Thanks for that,” she manages.

“Sure. Happens a lot around here,” the woman replies back. She keeps her distance, and it’s not hard to fit the pieces together – she’s still scalded by the exchange from earlier.

“I’m sorry, by the way. For what I said back at the train station. I know you were just trying to help.”

“ ‘S alright. Can’t fault you. Rough nights for the both of us – this morning, I actually had working credit cards.”

She laughs, and it breaks the tension down a bit.

“I’m Jamie, by the way,” the brunette offers, reaching out her hand for a firm shake.

It’s not that she doesn’t trust this stranger – _Jamie –_ but something doesn’t sit right, so she lies. “Julie,” she offers back.

“Julie,” Jamie repeats with a chuckle. “Not what I’d’ve picked for ya, but what can you do?” She looks around and takes stock of their surroundings. “Right, so what’s next? Do you want to get a hotel room or something?”

“Excuse me?”

Jamie takes a moment, looks confused, then understands – and raises her hands in surrender. “Jesus, no. Not like that. I meant for you. In case you’ve got someone to phone in the morning?”

“I don’t. Have anyone to call, I mean. My phone’s dead, I have no money, and my ID is in my purse that got stolen,” she sighs. “So I’m well and truly screwed.”

Jamie thinks for a moment, furrowing her eyebrows together hard enough that she gets a crinkle in the space between them. (It’s a little endearing, if she’s honest.) “Well, want to take a shot at finding your bag, then?”

“I thought you said you have better things to do with your Friday night,” she retorts.

“Wasn’t on the list, no. But,” she mimes checking her watch – “I think I can fit it into my schedule. You remember the name of the place?”

**_Jamie_ **

“Not exactly a national pastime, but I wish I could say that was the first time I’ve dug through a trash can in a bar looking for something,” Jamie mutters. The door to the bathroom shuts behind her, and she makes eye contact with the blonde – _Julie –_ sitting at the bar. “You sure this was the place?”

“Yeah,” she responds, burying her head in her hands. “Shit.”

She sidles onto a barstool. “Well, if they dumped the cards or the bag, it wasn’t here. But, don’t get too down on yourself yet. I’ve got some ideas left.” Jamie flags down the bartender and orders two club sodas to get the conversation started. She flashes a wink at her companion.

“You lot have a place for lost and found here?”

The bartender chuckles dryly. “Depends what you’re looking for and when you lost it. Everything non-essential goes out with the trash at the end of the night, so you’re on a tight schedule.”

“Something like an expensive handbag?”

Something flashes across his face, but just as quickly as it’s there, it vanishes. “Hasn’t turned up, sorry to say. But, you never know.” He’s tall and wiry, with a heavy Scottish accent that somehow manages to put Jamie at unease.

“That’s what the police said,” she throws back – dead cell phones in both hers and Julie’s pockets, they hadn’t gotten that far yet – but the barkeep didn’t need to know that.

“Funny, they’re usually so helpful,” the man replies.

“They did tell me, though,” she starts, and the man’s focus snaps on to her a little too quickly. “Sometimes, there are guys that lift purses out of certain dives, and the bartenders… _know something_ about it,” she gestures vaguely to accent her point.

The man shifts his attention anywhere but on them. “Guess starting rumours is easier than doing actual work,” he parries.

“Right. I’d bet there’d be a nice cut on top if you did know something, though.”

The bartender pauses. “Prada, you said?”

Julie nods. “It does have sentimental value, and I’d pay a lot to get it back.”

He chews his bottom lip. “Give me a moment.” Turning, he heads to the back room – presumably, to make a phone call.

Jamie leans over conspiratorially. “Nice touch, that. ‘Sentimental value.’”

The blonde looks affronted for a moment. “It’s true.” She takes a handful of bar peanuts and begins shelling them to keep her hands busy. “Thanks again for taking the time to do this.”

“Least I could do. I’m actually just in downtown proper for an audition, anyway. Might as well have a bit of an adventure while I’m here.”

The warm glow of the incandescent Christmas light bulbs over the bar paints her companion in proper light for the first time since the train station, and Jamie is able to properly take in the woman before her. She’s pretty, there’s no denying that – but there’s something a little sad just beneath the surface. The blue in her eyes remind Jamie of a storm cloud, a harbinger of something tougher than just rain. She’s seen her fair share of storms disguised as people, she thinks.

“Trumpet?” Julie offers, pointing at the instrument and effectively shaking Jamie from her study. When she nods, the blonde laughs. “I don’t think I’ve seen someone play a trumpet since middle school band class.”

“You watch yourself,” Jamie cautions with a smile. “It’s only a respectable few of us left.”

She gives a thoughtful hum. “Jazz, then?”

She grins. “Yeah. You listen?”

“I like it. Not like, ‘elevator music’ jazz, but the other stuff. My mom used to play Ella Fitzgerald a lot when I was a kid.”

Jamie chuckles and raises her glass in mock toast. “The classics, then. Good taste.”

“I performed Ella one year at summer camp,” Julie laughs. “I serenaded this boy in my class that I had a crush on from behind a tree.”

That gets a laugh – a real, proper laugh from Jamie, and it seems to spur her to keep going. “He stood there confused, and I ran away, and that was the end of my singing career.”

“Bloody shame, I’d’ve paid money to hear that.” Jamie’s still laughing when she asks her next question. “What was your next career?”

“I’m an art consultant,” Julie replies. “I’m actually – was, actually,” she amends, “just here long enough to buy a painting.”

“Anything I’d know?”

“Honestly? Probably not,” the blonde laughs.

Jamie thinks she could get used to the sound. “Fair point.”

“Might have a lead for ya.” The bartender returns, bearing a slip of paper with a hastily-scrawled address.

Her companion practically jumps across the bar. “So I just have to go to this address?”

Jamie peers over her shoulder and frowns. “It’s a rough neighborhood.”

The bartender shrugs. “Not often the Wall Street lads are out lifting purses, is it?”

“Cheers mate. Appreciate it,” Jamie mutters, and stands to leave. Julie is already doing the same, to her relief. Makes things less awkward. With any luck, they’ll have time to split before –

“I hope I was helpful,” the bartender jabs, never breaking eye contact as he wipes the counter with a rag.

“Right. Extremely,” Jamie grumbles. She reaches into her wallet and fishes out a $20, dropping it unceremoniously on the counter. “Next unwilling victim’s on me,” she mutters as they walk out into the cold night.

“So it’s this way, right?” The blonde looks around, seemingly trying to orient herself with her unfamiliar surroundings (and by all accounts, failing. She’s pointing the wrong way.) She’s clearly meaning to strike out on her own.

“Twist my arm, why don’t ‘ya. I guess I can come with you,” Jamie sighs dramatically.

“I couldn’t ask you to. You’ve got your thing tomorrow morning, and I – “

“Good thing you didn’t ask,” she winks. “Really, it’s fine. It’s late, you’re going to a rough neighborhood, and I wouldn’t be a proper gentleman if I let ‘ya go alone.”

She looks unconvinced.

“Really. It’d ache on my guilty conscience for months. Years, maybe, if something bad happened to ‘ya. I’d never sleep well again, and the bills from therapy for _that_ would be astronomical – “

“Okay, okay,” the blonde laughs. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

“Not on something worth fighting for,” Jamie replies, perhaps a bit too earnestly. She tucks her hands into her pocket, hoping it’ll prevent her from revealing all of her cards too soon.

They set off, stepping carefully around the puddles, cracks in the pavement, and bags of trash set out on the curb by the neighborhood residents. A few shops still glow neon ‘OPEN’ signs in the windows or Christmas lights on their storefronts, and music floats out of a bodega a few streets away. Save for the occasional noise of a car driving by, it’s as quiet as Jamie’s seen New York in a while.

“I’m sure my husband will really appreciate the help you’ve given me. It’s really kind of you,” Julie throws into the silence, and it’s enough to put a crack in the fragile peace between them.

“You didn’t need to do that, y’know,” Jamie placates. They’re close enough where they occasionally bump shoulders if they step in opposite directions at the same time, but not enough to be “friendly”, so it’s easy for her to look over and see the disconnect on the blonde’s face. “The husband thing.”

The confusion on her face turns into a full frown. “Oh. It’s not that I mean to distrust you, it’s just – you’re being so nice.”

“Last I checked, ‘being nice’ wasn’t a criminal offense,” Jamie smirks. “But don’t mention it.”

“So what was your big plan for tonight?”

“Sorry?”

“The thing you had to go to.”

“Oh. A uh… a reception. For a wedding.”

The blonde slows her pace, considering. Then, a sly smile. “Were you going to crash a wedding?”

Jamie laughs. “You sure we haven’t met? But uh, no. I wanted to see someone.”

“The groom?”

She shakes her head.

“The bride?”

She chuckles. “Got me figured out, haven’t you? No, though. Just a friend from a long time ago.” Hoping to avoid the still-raw topic of conversation, Jamie deflects. “What about you? Handbag was a gift from your husband?”

Julie nods. “From a long time ago,” she mocks, poor British accent sharp and stilted around the edges.

“I’m choosing to ignore that,” Jamie laughs. “I think you might be missing some hardware, though,” she gestures, lifting her left ring finger in acknowledgement.

“You don’t believe me?”

The air feels heavier, somehow, between them. A bicyclist passes by, towing a plastic shopping bag full of groceries behind him.

“It’s none of my business,” she offers. “Just thinking.”


	3. backup plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dani gets unexpected news, and Jamie learns more about what she's up against.

When they arrive at the address, it’s every bit as seedy as Jamie had imagined. A white, security-locked door, tagged with graffiti and peeling apartment numbers – hardly a place for two women to be alone, heaven forbid one.

“Right,” Jamie sighs. “Best you let me do this.” She’s 5’5” on a good day – but her short, wavy brown hair and strong shoulders make her more imposing than most. She’d grown up around an older brother, and tough school friends who’d never taken it easy on her. She knew her way around a fight if things came to that.

“Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“Yeah, they’ll be right over. How’s next Saturday?” She puts a (hopefully comforting) hand on the blonde’s shoulder. “Look, you’ve got to get home, yeah? This is our best shot.” She searches the other woman’s eyes for understanding, and seems to find it. Stepping back, she sniffles against the cold and sets her jaw. “You said a black Prada bag, right? Anything special about it?”

The blonde thinks for a moment. “On the inside liner, there’s the initials “D.C.” in a kid’s handwriting.”

“D.C.? Like, Washington?” Jamie smiles and shakes her head. “Odd, but okay.”

“The girl I nanny wrote it.” She looks around anxiously, and her gaze comes back to rest on Jamie’s for a moment. “My name is Dani. Dani Clayton,” she confesses.

Jamie scoffs, then smiles. “Julie, then? Bit of a stretch.”

Dani glances at her feet apologetically. “It’s late, I’m in a weird big city, you’re a stranger… I stretched, okay? Your accent made me think of Mary Poppins, and then I thought of Julie Andrews and that’s where it went.”

She looks at Jamie like she’s waiting for her to say something, or be mad, but she doesn’t. Instead, she just raises an eyebrow and levels her with a questioning gaze. “Please don’t tell me the only movie with a British person in it you’ve ever seen is Mary Poppins.”

Dani blanches.

“When I get back, we’re going to have a talk about your serious lack of culture. And – “ she raises a challenging finger – “your lack of trust in me. Seriously, Poppins. Break a girl’s heart with that.” She grins and turns away, and Dani’s thankful the other woman can’t see the blush spread across her cheeks at the nickname. She hands her trumpet bag to Dani, and points. “There’s a restaurant around the corner there. Wait for me there, and if I’m not back in half an hour, assume I’ve been turned into a handbag by the mafia.”

As she goes to knock on the door, she’s stopped by a gentle hand on her arm. “Wait. How much cash do you have?” Dani asks.

“That’s a personal question,” she throws back. Searching her pockets, she finds the petty cash she’d earned from busking at the station earlier, and a few other small bills. “Um, maybe $60?”

Dani looks at her knowingly. “You’re going to do something crazy, aren’t you?”

Jamie grins, brilliant and endearing. “Appreciate you not saying ‘something stupid’. We’ll see what happens when I get to that part.” She pauses, looks away, and spins back with a reply. “It’s exciting though, isn’t it?”

The security door buzzes open, and Jamie comes face to face with the bald, Russian, black-market purse dealing equivalent of Arnold Schwarzenegger. He studies her, easily a full foot taller, and sniffs the air like a bloodhound smelling for fear. “You are the one lost the purse?”

Jamie stands up a little straighter, squares her shoulders, and looks him in the eye. “Yeah. And without it, my whole outfit is ruined, so I’m real interested in getting it back.”

He grumbles something and pushes open the door, allowing her enough room to squeeze past into the dimly-lit hallway. _No backing out now,_ she thinks.

Outside, Dani’s managed to track down a pay phone, and scavenged some loose change from Jamie’s trumpet case. She’s going to owe her a lot more than that in damages once the night is done, anyway. She drops the coins in the slot, and rings through to the operator to connect her with a line. The voice on the other end sounds like it’s speaking through a tin can, and she presses the receiver to her ear against the night wind.

“Four Seasons Los Angeles, how can I help you?”

Dani’s voice shakes as she greets the receptionist. “Hi, Edmund O’Mara’s room, please?”

“Just a moment.”

She fiddles anxiously with the cord of the phone – and in that moment, she can’t tell if she wants Eddie to pick up or wants him to _not_ pick up more. She settles for wishing things weren’t so complicated.

“Hello?” Eddie’s voice is tired, maybe half-asleep when he picks up.

“Hi,” Dani sighs.

“Danielle, hi. It’s so good to hear your voice, everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just couldn’t sleep, so I wanted to call and see how you were doing.”

“Good. Busy, but that’s the norm around here. How’s New York? Did you get the piece?”

“Yeah, I did,” Dani cracks a smile. “A neat 2.25.”

“That’s amazing, honey, congratulations. Hey, did you get my message?”

Something close to fear shakes loose in her stomach. “My phone died, actually. No.”

“Oh. I wondered why you called the hotel. Um, I have great news – I’ll be on the first flight out tomorrow. We got the meetings done early so I moved it up and I can be home in time for late breakfast in the morning,” he offers. It’s clear that he’s excited about the development – but something ice cold runs through Dani’s blood, and she balks.

“Tomorrow? It’s 2am, isn’t that really early? Are you sure you don’t want a later flight?”

“I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to,” he chuckles. “And I’d get to see you sooner.”

Dani feels the world start to spin crookedly on its axis. She braces herself against the payphone, hoping to stave off the dizziness that crawls at the corners of her vision. “Are you sure? You could stay that last night, and we could celebrate both of our deals when you’re home and well rested?”

“Flight’s booked, Danielle,” he laughs. “Don’t sound so excited. Seriously, is everything all right?”

“No, I am. I’m happy for you. I’m just tired, I guess.”

“Get some sleep,” Eddie coaxes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

_Shit._

Dani slams the payphone down on the hook and tries to breathe against the tightness in her chest. She peers at the trumpet case on top of the stand, and realizes she’s forgotten all about Jamie – without a watch, she has no way of knowing how long she’s been in there. If something bad has happened…

In the distance, she hears a police siren _whoop_ and decides on her own backup plan.

Jamie’s situated in a dark, dimly-lit, security-gated room filled with designer bags, wallets, and coats – and surrounded by hired muscle. It’s a wonder she’s made it this far at all, but she’s finally face to face with their – she corrects herself – _Dani’s_ biggest problem. “You lot make a good amount on this then, yeah?”

“All from tonight,” the Russian acknowledges, as she combs through the handbags.

She spots a cluster of black bags, and opening them up sees one with scrawled initials in silver Sharpie. Upon closer inspection, she positively ID’s the bag – “D.C.” is there, clear as day, on the liner. As she examines it, she notices with a sinking feeling that there’s no obvious wallet or ID inside this bag – they might’ve stripped it, kept the cash, dumped it, or even sold it to another buyer. She can sense the men growing restless, so she relents. “This is the one.”

“Special today. $900.”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s the number I gave Peter.”

The hairs on the back of Jamie’s neck have started to rise. “Scottish bloke, right? I paid him,” she lies. “What is this, a shakedown?”

The Russian nods to one of the other men. “Call him.”

It’s fight-or-flight mode now. Any mistake could prove fatal – and she can feel herself being backed against the wall. “Right. So you call him, he says I didn’t pay, and I get knocked about?”

The phone in the man’s hand rings, dialing.

In the next instant, several things happen at once.

First, the security gate buzzes, drawing the men’s attention to the security monitor overhead – except it’s not a customer. There, clear as day, are two uniformed police officers, knocking at the front entrance.

Second, someone yells “rat” – and fists go flying.

Jamie isn’t sure who throws the first punch – but she certainly knows the feeling when she gets hit with one, square across the temple. She dishes one back, leaving good contact on whichever poor soul was in range. By the time she gets her bearings, the men have grabbed the stack of purses and burst out the back door, leaving no trace behind that they were ever there. Jamie follows, if only to avoid being questioned awkwardly about her own whereabouts there, but she can’t make sense of where they’ve gone. Disheartened and – with a check of her forehead – bleeding, she shoves her hands in her pockets and makes her way to Miles’.

As it turns out, walking in bleeding to a restaurant worth its status isn’t a great way to make a first impression. Dani is – perhaps justifiably – terrified. The bartender is sympathetic, though, and lends Jamie a few suture strips which she puts on after cleaning up in the bathroom, and reassuring her companion.

“I’m so sorry, I feel like an idiot,” Dani murmurs apologetically, once they’ve left the bar. “You have your audition tomorrow, and now you look – “

“Homeless?”

“No.”

“Tough? Women like scars, yeah?”

Dani laughs, and some color comes back into their dynamic. “Let’s stick with the first one.”

“Foot in mouth, right.”

“I’m sorry I sent the cops in, I just… I thought you might be in over your head.”

“Blimey,” Jamie muses. “Trust is hard to earn with you, Poppins. So, the handbag is out. What’s the plan then?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dani sighs. “It was over the second I missed that train.”

Jamie slows her walk, turns to face the blonde. “What was?”

Dani looks at her sadly and knowingly all at the same time – like Jamie’s somehow missed the most obvious joke in the world. “My marriage.”

“Oh.” She blinks. “Someone else, then?”

“What?” The blonde looks offended.

“Sorry for assuming,” Jamie backpedals. “Just – “ she sighs, and it comes out as water vapor between them in the cold. “You’re by yourself in a big city, no wedding ring, and you have to make it home before your husband? Just… trying to make sense of it, that’s all.”

“Okay, genius. If I was having an affair, why wouldn’t I just call my boyfriend and have him bail me out of this mess?”

“Bit cliché to say ‘it’s complicated’, then?”

Dani scoffs and shoves the trumpet case into Jamie’s arms. “Okay. Thanks for your help, but you can go back to doing whatever it was you were doing before I ruined your night.” She starts to walk off, but doesn’t make it past the street corner before she’s waiting for a speeding cab to turn and Jamie’s caught up with her.

“Wait, wait. I’m sorry, Dani.”

To the other woman’s credit, she turns around long enough to glare.

“I’m sorry, I messed that up. Look,” she pauses. “My night was shite before you got here, and it’s probably going to be shite after you leave. I was hiding in Grand Central instead of going to a wedding, mind you. But if I can do this one thing and help you get home before your life goes to shite too, then it’ll have been worth it.” She shifts back and forth, considering her next move. “Plus, it’d make me a hero. Can’t pass that up,” she jokes.

It’s obviously not what Dani was expecting her to say, and she searches the sky while she considers Jamie’s offer. After a moment, she nods.

A sigh of relief, then. “Right. So let’s put the pieces together. The issue is, you have to be home by morning, yeah?”

“Right.”

“What time?”

Dani thinks. “I don’t know… 7, probably. At the latest.”

“So we’d have to leave by 3:30, 4. And, lucky for you, Poppins – that means we have time.” She smiles, and is greeted with one in return. Jamie shifts her trumpet bag to her left shoulder, and holds out her arm. “You coming?”

Dani rolls her eyes, but it’s only half-serious, and she loops her arm through Jamie’s as they start to walk back towards downtown.

The dark hides Jamie’s lopsided smirk as she sneaks a glance at Dani’s arm in hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (and some of the upcoming ones) were my favorites to write, since we start really getting into what drives the characters in this universe. Thanks for reading and commenting along the way!


	4. ex-something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dani and Jamie turn to an uneasy option - and each other - as time starts to run out.

“Manhattan?” Jamie speaks into the payphone.

“Name of the business?”

“Wingrave Car Service.”

“Just a moment.” The line clicks as the operator passes through the connection, and within a minute there’s a man’s voice on the line.

“Wingrave Car Service?”

“Hi, how much to Boston if we leave within the hour?”

There’s an answering click of keys on the other end as the man puts rates into his computer, presumably. “That’d be $447.”

“Right. That’s the best you can do?”

“That’s all-inclusive, ma’am.”

“Thanks.”

She hangs the phone back on the hook and sighs. Peering at Dani, she sees the questioning look on the other woman’s face. “$447, all in. Best deal we’ve found so far,” she placates.

“Can we raise that?” Dani worries.

Jamie thinks. The cash she has on hand would take care of the first $100, mostly. She’d have to borrow the rest, and on good faith from someone that knows her – and is still awake at 2am on short notice. _Owen and Hannah? The reception?_

“Think so,” she decides. “We’ll have to go see a friend at the wedding.”

For the first time all night, she sees a bit of hope behind Dani’s blue eyes, and wonders about the best way to try and keep it there. “Don’t thank me yet, though.”

They cross the street, headed for the nearest subway station to take them towards Manhattan proper.

Out of all the things to worry about, Dani pipes up with one Jamie hadn’t considered, and it makes her burst out laughing. “Am I dressed okay for a wedding?”

She composes herself long enough to respond. “You’ll be the best of us,” she grins.

Thankfully, Jamie’s MetroCard has enough to get them both through the turnstiles and on the train. As the subway clatters noisily along the tracks, Dani leans over and breaks the silence. “So how did you get into playing trumpet, after all?”

“They have music therapy inside,” she shrugs, and glances at Dani long enough to see the recognition on her face. “Mind you, that was years ago.” She leans back against the plastic seat, shifts her shoulders to face the blonde. “When I was a kid, my brothers and I were split up. Social services got us in the foster care system. Was no picnic – soon as I was old enough, I struck out of there and started living on my own. A group of older kids on the streets in London took me in, but eventually the cops caught on and picked me up for vagrancy. Just so happened I also had a woman’s pocketwatch on me that I was planning on pawning for my next meal. Ended up serving a couple of years.”

Dani’s eyes grow sad. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s not much,” she shrugs. “Fell in love with music while I was inside, and was able to make a decent living off of it once I got out. My friends we’re going to see – Owen and Hannah? Basically took me in after that until I could get on my feet. Expats, all of us, from London. In case you hadn’t noticed the accent,” she winks.

“Never would’ve guessed,” Dani plays along.

“They’re pretty much my only friends. More like family, now, I reckon. I don’t much do well around people. But music makes sense, so I stick to that.” She turns to face Dani. “So what about you? What’s your big story?”

“Oh,” she blinks. “I’m not much of a story.”

Jamie cocks an eyebrow. “Highly doubt that. Let’s have it anyway.”

“Well, I was born in Iowa. Dad died when I was young, and my mom wasn’t exactly a model parent, but she did what she could. No brothers or sisters. I have a husband, who I _conveniently_ can’t show you a picture of because my phone died,” she laughs, “but his name is Eddie. He works in finance, which I can’t pretend to enjoy. We were high school sweethearts and ended up getting married just after he finished college.” At this, something in her expression turns sad, and Jamie catches it.

“Trouble in paradise, then?”

“You could say that,” she sighs. “Eddie’s family was always very traditional. Women belong in the home, obey their husbands, that sort of thing. He never really pushed that on me, and I’m grateful, but you could always sort of tell that he didn’t like me being out on my own. I pushed back, wanted to make something for myself. It turns out you don’t need a college degree to become an art consultant, just an appreciation for art – and I’ve loved it since I was a little kid.” She worries her hands in her lap, and stares at them like the motion might keep her grounded. “I try to balance both, but it’s hard. It’s really hard, sometimes.”

“Not that you asked,” Jamie chuckles. “But the way I see it, love shouldn’t be hard. It should just… feel like it fits. Like the other person is meant to be there at that point in your life – and when you recognize it, if you should be so lucky, you just have to be brave enough to take the jump.”

Dani gives a small smile and nods. “Whoever she is, she’s lucky.”

Jamie shakes her head and grins. “When I find her, I’ll be sure to tell her that.”

They arrive at the venue a little after 2am, and despite the weariness of the night prior, Jamie’s never felt more wired. _Anxious doesn’t even begin to cover it_ , she thinks.

Dani’s arm still looped around hers – not that she’s complaining – they wait in the yawning marble building lobby and wait for the elevator. The more Jamie stares at the number on the display, growing smaller as the lift descends, the more panic creeps into her bones. Dani notices.

“That bad?”

It startles her out of her downward spiral. “Sorry?”

“That bad? The reason you didn’t want to be here?”

“Oh.” Jamie stuffs her hands into her coat pockets, a nervous force of habit. “I suppose, I mean… it’s been a while. She was an ex-something.”

“An ex-something? Bad breakup?”

“Are there any other kinds?”

Dani nods, understanding. She reaches down, taking Jamie’s hand from her pocket and giving it a reassuring squeeze. She smiles, and Jamie finds herself unable to resist doing the same. “Thanks.”

The elevator dings, and the panic sets deeper as they step inside and press the button for the fifth floor. The steel doors slide smoothly shut, and it feels a little like sealing her own fate.

“If I know anything about Owen, he’ll be at the open bar,” she figures.

When they reach the floor, they’re greeted by the thumping bass of a DJ’s setlist and a crowded room of attendees. It’s dark and lit more like a nightclub than a wedding reception, but the back wall is covered in floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a breathtaking view of midtown Manhattan. Jamie scans the room, looking for a familiar face.

“Are they here?”

“Well, I barely know a soul besides Hannah and Owen. Met the groom once, I think? Give us a minute – “

She trails off, spotting a woman with dark hair and coffee-colored skin in the opposite corner of the room, idly chatting away with her back to them. Jamie’s heart thumps into her chest and threatens to drop out all at the same time. After so much time, she wasn’t sure how she’d react, seeing Rebecca again. The woman turns, and Jamie holds her breath – and it isn’t Rebecca.

“Do you know that person?” Dani asks gently.

Jamie breathes out a shaky sigh. “No. Thought I did. This uh… might be tougher than I thought.”

“If you don’t feel up to it, we can go,” she placates. “We’ll figure something out.”

As much as Jamie likes the sound of “we” – “I made a promise to ‘ya, didn’t I?”

Dani nods. She peers over Jamie’s shoulder, catching a glimpse of something that piques her interest by the corner of the bar. She pushes gently on her shoulders, making Jamie spin in place. “What’s P.W.C Entertainment?”

Jamie spots the banner at the same time, and gives a short laugh. “Shite. We’re not even at the right reception. That’d explain it.” She moves to lead Dani towards the elevators, and they almost make it.

“Where the hell have you been?” A man’s voice behind them barks.

They turn on their heels, and are confronted with a well-dressed executive in a black tie who looks well past-irritated at their presence. “The band was supposed to be here an hour ago!”

Jamie flounders. Dani takes a look at her, sees the gears turning and sputtering, and springs into action. “We got held up in traffic, and I’m not sure any of the others are coming. We haven’t heard from them,” she explains.

“What am I supposed to do with one saxophone?” the man complains.

By this time, Jamie’s brain has caught up, and she takes the lead. “It’s a trumpet, actually. And uh, a singer.” She motions towards Dani and sees panic spring up in blue eyes. Reaching out, she takes her hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze – returning the favor, she’d claim. Definitely not because she’s missed the contact already.

“A trumpet, good Christ.” The executive runs his hands through his hair. “This isn’t worth the $5,000 we agreed on.”

_Holy shit._

“Uh, no,” Jamie placates. “But while we’re waiting for the rest of them, we could hold down the fort, so to speak.” She glances at Dani, who’s somewhere between terrified and overjoyed. “We will need $600 up front though, cover the cost of our time and travel.”

“Out of the question.”

Jamie has him caught, and she knows it. She buries the hook. “Right. Have a nice night with your disc jockey’s setlist, then,” and she turns to leave.

“Wait –“ the man calls out, and Jamie grins. “$350.”

“$500,” she counters. “That’s 10%, only seems fair.”

He sighs. “Fine. Go make yourselves useful while I scrape together the cash, the crowd’s been restless for the last hour.” He hands Dani a keycard from his jacket pocket. “You can use 1107 as a green room if you need to store your things.” With that, he disappears toward the bar to inform the DJ.

Jamie’s overjoyed – until she turns to offer her hand to Dani and sees her standing shell-shocked. “You all right, Poppins?”

“I don’t sing, Jamie.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“No I mean – in front of all these people? I can’t.”

She pulls her to a quiet corner by the stage. “Right. I’m sorry I signed you up without asking.” She grabs a bottle of water off a nearby cart, cracks it open, and hands it to her. “But I know how important it is to you to be home, yeah? It’s $500, yours to keep. And –“ she scans the room. “It’s 2am at some office party in New York City. You’ll never see any of these blokes again. And it makes for a hell of a story.”

Dani takes the bottle and takes a long drink, thinking. Steadying herself, perhaps. Then, she nods. “Stick to something I can handle, okay?”

Jamie beams.

They climb the small set of steps to the stairs, and Dani gets settled at the microphone. Jamie chuckles as she fiddles with the stand, bringing the height down ever so slightly to fit her stature. They exchange glances, and Jamie flashes a thumbs up to the executive, who’s waiting _impatiently_ to introduce the pair of them.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know it’s a bit later than intended, but we’re delighted to present to you tonight the musical stylings of – “

“Dani Clayton on vocals, and Jamie Taylor on lead trumpet,” Jamie chimes in. “We’ll keep things easy, yeah? I hope everyone is acquainted with the First Lady, miss Ella Fitzgerald – and if you’re not, you’re about to be.”

Jamie sparks the first few notes on trumpet, bringing the melody forward so Dani can catch where it goes, before drifting into a more freeform accompaniment. It’s something she’s learned over the years – people want to hear the singer first, and the band second.

So when Dani starts singing – _really_ singing – it’s everything Jamie can do not to stop playing, walk off stage, and let her take all of the spotlight. She’s floored.

If she hadn’t been in trouble before, she certainly was now: this beautiful woman, alone in an unfamiliar city, trusted her. It was something more than trust, if she was being honest - going along with Jamie’s bad ideas, sharing her story, and fighting so hard to get home and make things right? She was well and truly struck, and that was dangerous.

She shakes the thought away – in a few hours, Dani would be on her way back home to her husband, and she’d never see her again. None of this would matter, but it’d follow her for the rest of her days. She was sure of it.

As the song winds down, Dani steps back from the microphone and bows graciously to the smattering of applause coming from the patrons. She turns to look at Jamie, beaming –

Jamie stands from her chair abruptly, gathering her coat and grabbing Dani’s hand. With a point over her shoulder, she spins to see the executive marching angrily through the crowd.

“He’s either not a fan of the song choice or he’s figured out we’re not with the band,” Jamie mutters. “You’ve still got that key?”

Dani nods, and Jamie pulls her out the door and down the back stairwell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally get some real backstory into the characters here (and there's more to come if you like that sort of thing). 
> 
> I left it open so you could pick your favorite Ella Fitzgerald song to imagine Dani singing here, but I had "Dream a Little Dream of Me" with Louis Armstrong on repeat for this section if you want to follow my lead.


	5. the past, part I

They’re still laughing, like kids who’ve played a prank and run from the scene, when they burst through the door to the hotel room. Jamie pauses in the doorway, hands on her hips exaggeratedly like she’s just run a marathon. “Shite, I really thought that would work,” she laughs.

Dani flops onto the couch, still smiling. “I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe _we_ did that,” she amends.

“None the richer for it, mind you,” Jamie sobers. “Think I’ve got gray hairs from that ordeal. Let me see if I can call Owen and get the right address.”

“Your phone’s dead, you have the number memorized?”

“Don’t you memorize all your emergency contacts?”

Dani laughs. “I think you get into more emergencies than I do.”

“You’ve got a fair point, Poppins,” she winks, and dials the number. “Owen, you prat. You sent over the wrong address for the reception. Also, long story I’ll explain later, but I need $450 within the next hour and a half. Not a joke, promise. If you’re still there and you get this, call back. Cheers.”

“Do you think he’ll get the message in time?”

“Dunno. I hope so.” Jamie thinks for a moment, then dials another number. “I’ve got another idea, hang on.”

There’s a crackle, and a woman’s voice picks up on the other end. “Front desk, how can I help you, Mrs. Wright?”

She frowns and plays along – this’ll certainly be more difficult with a surname registered to the room. _Hotel concierges see hundreds of people a day, though. What are the odds they remember this one’s face?_ “Hi, I need a car sent up to take a guest from P.W.C. to Boston right away.”

A beat. Then - “Certainly, ma’am. Would you like your usual car service?”

Jamie grins. “That’d be fine, yeah.”

“And how would you like me to bill the charges?”

“Would you be able to charge the room?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, ma’am. I’d expect the car within the next ten minutes.”

“Thanks so much.” She sets down the phone carefully and raises a triumphant fist in the air. “I really should’ve been a lawyer. I’m a great liar.”

Dani laughs. “That’s concerning.” She points at Jamie’s trumpet bag on the table. “I like your shiny trumpet, by the way. I hope it’s worth enough to cover bail when we both get arrested.”

Jamie’s smile falters ever so slightly. “Should be. I paid for it with a shiny engagement ring.”

She sits on the opposite end of the couch and lets the silence wrap around them until it becomes too much. “So, tell me about these paintings,” she gestures vaguely at the _dreadful_ hotel art. “Are they by anyone famous?”

Dani pretends to think on it for a moment. “How could you tell?”

“Well, you need to have an eye for this sort of thing. _Especially_ with hotel art. Always the best stuff,” Jamie grins.

“You’re the worst,” Dani laughs. “You know, actually, the most interesting thing about hotel art isn’t what’s on the front?” She stands on the couch, balancing on unsteady legs, and reaches up to peek behind the unseemly landscape on the wall above them. “It’s what’s behind it.”

“Like a safe?”

“No – have you heard of hotel graffiti?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“This comedian started it some years ago, when his TV didn’t work in his hotel room. Started doodling on the backs of all the artwork to keep himself busy. So,” she grins, peering behind a piece near the king bed, “ever since, I’ve been looking for it.” Dani takes the piece off the wall and spins it towards Jamie, showing off a risqué doodle of a woman framed by scrawled block letters.

Jamie cranes her neck to read the print. “Gotta go, the hookers are here?” She nearly doubles over laughing, and Dani follows. Once they’ve composed themselves, she sits up straight and sniffs, putting on a serious mask. “We probably shouldn’t touch anything in this room, then.”

Minutes later, they’re taking the elevator down to the main lobby to meet their car and driver. Jamie strides confidently to the front desk, Dani close behind. “Hi. We ordered a car for Mrs. Wright?”

The concierge demurs. “Certainly, ma’am. I was able to get your regular driver as well.” She motions toward the uniformed driver standing by the door, and the panic alarm in Jamie’s head goes off. They hadn’t thought _this_ through.

“Except you’re not Mrs. Wright,” the man challenges.

Jamie’s never been one to back down. “No, ‘course not. I was sent to escort Mrs. Wright’s guest,” she motions towards Dani.

The driver looks at the concierge, who looks back at them, no one willing to budge an inch. Finally, the concierge cracks. “No problem, ma’am. Just let me ring the room to confirm.”

_Shit._

“That… actually isn’t necessary. I was just saying I wanted to get a drink first – the night’s still early, right? Is the bar on Houston still open?” She looks at Jamie and urges her to play along. “We’ll head over, and you can have a few moments to get in touch to get this sorted out.”

The concierge is none the wiser, and she nods. “Much appreciated, ma’am. We’ll see you soon.”

The driver doesn’t look convinced.

They head out the double doors and back into the freezing night, down one _more_ plan of how to get Dani home before the end of life as she knows it. The clock ticks steadily on.

“That’s no good, but we’re not dead yet,” Jamie offers, in an attempt to lighten the somber mood that’s fallen around them. “Still got options.”

“And neither time nor money,” Dani grudges. She sighs and runs her hands through her hair in frustration, and Jamie’s reminded of just how far they’ve come since the first time she saw Dani do that same motion hours earlier, then a complete stranger. Now? She might call her a friend.

Dani braces herself on a payphone and buries her head on her forearms. “God, I wish I had a time machine right about now. Go back to yesterday and get it all together.”

“Yesterday?” Jamie groans dramatically. “Too short-sighted, Poppins. Everyone knows the first thing you do with a time machine is go back years ago and gamble on a sporting event.” She rubs her hands together like she’s trying to start a fire or cast a spell – and with a flourish, turns out the pockets of her coat, which are still predictably empty. “Guess I did something wrong, then.”

She motions with one finger – _hold on a moment_ – and takes the payphone off the hook. “City ran a campaign a few years ago, you could pick up a phone, dial a number, and a New Yorker would pick up and tell you what happened on that street corner twenty years ago.”

“I don’t need to go back to twenty years ago, just twenty-four hours,” Dani sighs.

“Give it a shot, then?” Jamie mimes dialing a number, and holds the headset to her ear. “Oh, hey. Dani from yesterday? Not a wrong number, promise – you don’t know me yet, but uh… you might know yourself. Hang on.” She offers the phone to Dani, who cracks a smile at her bad joke but takes the line.

“It’s me, I guess,” Dani speaks into the dead air. She covers the receiver and plays along – “she doesn’t believe me.”

Jamie chuckles. “Tell her something only you would know,” she offers.

“You know that scar you have on your forehead? The one right by your hairline on the left side?” She catches Jamie peering intently at her, trying to find the spot, and swats at her. “You tell everyone you got it in a hiking accident, but you actually got it crowdsurfing at a Blink-182 concert when you hit the guard rail?”

There’s a loud laugh from the brunette, and Dani grins. “Ssh, Jamie. It’s collect.”

“Sorry,” she whispers between fits of laughter.

“Right. Now that you believe me – when you go to New York, keep your purse close and don’t talk to any strangers in Grand Central Station, okay?” Jamie looks playfully offended. “Actually, talk to one stranger. Her name is Jamie, and she’ll be playing the trumpet. She’ll help you get home, even though she’ll try to tell you it’s the last thing she’d rather be doing on her Friday night. Okay? Good luck, Dani.”

“How do we know if it worked?” Dani questions.

Jamie exhales, breathing a cloud into the cold night. “Well, something will have changed. You’ll get a sign, or an option, maybe. I don’t know.” Looking around, she tries to find a clock in the vicinity to know just _how_ short on options they are. Suddenly, she notices a traffic sign, and Dani can practically see the lightbulb go off in her head.

“Shit, Dani. How did I not think of this?” She gestures at the painted traffic lane just off the curb. “A bus!”

Dani rolls her eyes, unconvinced. “That’s just as expensive as a car, and we wouldn’t be able to get one at this time of night.”

“No, but a Chinatown bus might. Runs all night and they’re cheap – maybe $80?”

“Do we even have that much?”

“No! But we’ll figure it out! It’s a sign!” She tugs Dani’s loose hand, and they’re off towards Chinatown – and possibly, their last hope.

The bus station is every bit the physical manifestation of their last chance. It’s a starkly lit, white-walled room with a few dingy sets of lockers and a mismatched conglomeration of folding chairs, and the fares and information are written in too many languages and dialects for Jamie to fathom. A few people wait for their buses, scattered around the space. In the corner, an older man chats loudly on a flip phone.

She’s at the counter, attempting to negotiate prices with the woman distributing tickets, but she’s finding herself shut down at every turn. Even her best offer (including the free bagel coupon Jamie had been saving like a priceless heirloom) wasn’t enough – and she’s finding it increasingly difficult not to get frustrated. Dani was counting on her to get home, methods be damned. After a lengthy lecture, Jamie turns, scalded, and returns to the folding chair next to Dani. The blonde peers at her sadly, hands steepled together in quiet resignation.

“You did your best. That’s all I could’ve asked.”

“We still have some hours yet,” Jamie urges gently.

“Not enough of them,” Dani acknowledges. “Unless you’ve got some secret 25th hour in the day I don’t know about?” It’s a half-joke, but Jamie admires her bravery for trying, despite the circumstances.

“I’ll get working on that right away, Poppins.”

The man on the phone across the room gets loud, gesturing animatedly to whoever he’s talking to, and Jamie turns to glare at him – and for about the hundredth time that night, her heart stops dead in her tracks at her own stupidity. She nudges Dani. “Wait here.”

“Where are you –“

Dani can’t even finish her sentence before Jamie is across the room and in the man’s space. As soon as he hangs up the phone, she’s chatting away and brandishing that damn free bagel coupon. She only catches bits and pieces of their conversation, but moments later she comes back, cell phone in hand and lopsided grin all over her face.

“Phone a friend?”

“Holy shit, Jamie.” She dials the operator, and soon enough she’s ringing through the line of her neighbor back home. “Hello? Henry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Or, I guess I did. But um – are you home? Could you do a favor for me?”

Jamie watches as Dani’s face floods with relief. In the quiet of the station, she can almost hear the neighbor on the other end of the line – it isn’t difficult to make out what Dani’s saying. She leans over to the older gentleman. “Mind if I use the phone after her?”

“I’m out of town, and I um, left an envelope on the counter, with Eddie’s name on it and some stuff inside. Would you get it and hold on to it for me? You know where we hide a spare key, right? You’re a lifesaver, Henry.” She pauses. “Don’t open what’s inside, though? I’ll explain everything when I get home, I promise.”

They chat for a few more moments, before Dani finally hangs up. She hands the phone back to the older gentleman, thanks him, and slowly makes her way back to where Jamie sits. She stands, eager to hear the news, and catches herself holding her breath in anticipation.

Instead, Dani crosses the room, wraps her arms around Jamie’s waist, and sighs. It’s suddenly very hard to breathe, and all Jamie can do is hold on tight and wait for the world to catch back up to this moment.

Falling for Dani feels a bit like fighting against gravity, Jamie reckons. She was always destined to lose.


	6. the past, part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Dani's marriage saved, Jamie must reckon with her own demons.

They step side-by-side out of the bus station and onto the street, and Dani’s smiling – _beaming_ – for at least two city blocks as they walk. She reminds Jamie of Atlas, freed from the weight of the world on her shoulders at last.

“You know, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you happy,” Jamie nudges. “Can’t say I mind the look on ‘ya.”

Dani grins back – as if there was anything else she could do at the moment. “For the record, this is ‘relieved’. Happy is something else. But uh, thank you.” She blushes. “I really couldn’t have done it without you. Did Owen leave you a voicemail?”

“He did. Fat fingers fudged the buttons. I know exactly where the place is.”

“So are we going?”

“I figured we’d just keep walking ‘round for a bit,” Jamie drags. “I hear Central Park is safe this time of night. Maybe I’ll go dunk myself in the lake for some clarity.”

It’s Dani’s turn to stop and glare, now. “I thought you said it wasn’t that bad?”

Jamie’s silence is telling. She won’t meet Dani’s eyes.

“Does it have something to do with your ex-something? I’m happy to offer my services,” she jokes. “I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go.”

“It’s okay, Poppins,” Jamie deflects. “It’s late anyway.”

“I think you’re underestimating my abilities a bit. I make a great bodyguard,” Dani stands firm. “Or spiritual advisor? I usually only do readings on weekends, though.”

Jamie scoffs. “She’s there with some bloke.”

“I see. But, unfortunately – “ she reaches up and straightens Jamie’s scarf from where it’s wound itself awkwardly near her coat collar. “You saved my marriage earlier. And last time I checked, heroes don’t back down from villains, no matter how scary they might be.”

There’s a moment where Jamie considers her words. Maybe she has a point. “Fast learner, this one. Didn’t know I was such a good teacher. School of persuasion should be paying me more, I think.”

“Seriously, Jamie. Look, I’ll be your fake date. Even the playing field.”

(Jamie’s certainly not pausing to gather her thoughts, the sound of her name and _date_ out of Dani’s mouth still ringing in her ears. Of course not.) She clears her throat. “No offense, but I’m not sure she’d buy that you’re my type.”

“That’s the best case scenario,” Dani challenges. “If she thinks I changed you somehow, that’ll drive her nuts.”

Before Jamie knows it, Dani is bending on one knee on the sidewalk, designer outfit be damned, and reaching out her hand. “Would you, Jamie Taylor, be my pretend girlfriend for the evening?”

And really – it’s not _fair_ – how could Jamie ever say no?

She reaches down, gently helps Dani to her feet, and places a gentle kiss on her knuckles. For an instant, she’s convinced that she’s ruined the whole thing – but when Dani beams and offers her arm as Jamie had done earlier, her grin turns into a full-fledged lopsided smile.

The bar is barely a ten-minute walk, and Jamie feels the same aching panic from before return with a vengeance, creeping closer with every step. When they arrive outside, the cheery tint of the Christmas lights strung above the entryway do little to offset her nerves.

Dani gives her hand a gentle squeeze. “You’ve got this,” she reassures. “Also, not to be a downer, but I really hope you’ve got the place this time. I only know the one song.”

Jamie manages a laugh. “What would I do without you?”

“I don’t know. But it’d be a lot less fun.”

They push open the front door to the bar, and are almost immediately accosted by a tall man with glasses and a full moustache. Jamie doesn’t even have time to squeak out a warning before she’s engulfed in a hug. “Nice to see you too, Owen. I’d like my ribs intact though, if you don’t mind?”

Owen pulls back. “I’m so glad you could make it. Hannah’s been cross with me all night for not asking more.” He takes a moment and looks Dani up and down, acknowledging Jamie’s current company. “Bit rude of you not to introduce your date, love.”

“Dani,” she steps forward and introduces herself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“An American! Lovely to meet you,” Owen gushes. “Charmed, as us Brits would say. Speaking of charmed, Jamie, I’ve got that cursed cash you asked for. It’s only about $350, but I hope that’s enough to get you by. Also – here’s your room key. I don’t trust myself with it.”

“You’re a star, Owen,” Jamie chuckles. “We’re all good, actually. Got it figured out. Dani’s about the cleverest person I’ve met,” she deflects.

“Oh. Well, that puts a damper on the evening. I sold a kidney for this,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Not my kidney, mind you. But I’m not sure what to tell Hannah when she wakes up.”

Jamie bursts into laughter, and Hannah chooses that moment to glide smoothly through the crowd towards them. “I thought I’d find you two where the volume is,” she chides lovingly. “Glad you could make it, Jamie.” She gives out warm hugs to both of them, and only afterwards asks Dani’s name.

(In that moment, Dani thinks Hannah might just be the loveliest person she’s ever met.)

While Owen and Hannah chat up Dani about her career and the complicated backstory of how she met their mutual friend, Jamie scans the crowd for any sign of her _ex-something_. She’s about ready to breathe out a sigh of relief when she feels a hand come to rest on her shoulder. She takes a deep breath, turns, and comes face to face with the person who she hasn’t seen since their breakup six years prior.

“Hey, ‘Becca.”

Rebecca Jessel is every bit as beautiful as she was the last time Jamie laid eyes on her. It should be criminal, really, to age that well.

“Jamie, my goodness. I didn’t know if that was you. I – Owen said you might be here, and I was worried I’d missed you.”

Jamie shuffles awkwardly, and begins making a mental checklist of things to do once this is over.

  1. _Stab Owen._



“Suppose you did miss me,” she half-jokes. “How’s everything been? Law school kind to ‘ya?”

“I graduated, actually,” Rebecca smiles. “About a year ago. I finally got all of my apprenticeships in order, and now I’m just studying for the BAR exam. Peter’s been a great help.”

“A year ago? Shite, I lost track of time,” Jamie sighs. “That’s great news.”

“Easy to do, nowadays.” Rebecca folds her arms over each other as she talks, and Jamie catches a glimpse of a rather large wedding ring nestled on her left hand. Her heart sinks, in that way that permanent change weighs down.

There’s a small sound like someone clearing their throat, and Jamie remembers her emergency parachute. “Right, where are my manners? Dani, this is Rebecca. Rebecca, Dani Clayton.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dani.” Rebecca’s never been easily off-put, and she turns her attention right back to Jamie, who’s busy catching a fragile moment of peace. “So, are you working, or?”

“Ah, no, nothing much,” Jamie deflects, only to be interrupted.

“Yeah? She’s actually auditioning tomorrow morning,” Dani smiles, jostling into Jamie’s space to wrap around her arm. “It’s been a lot of hard work recently.”

_That’s really only a half-lie, given the last few hours,_ Jamie muses. She amends her to-do list.

  1. _Stab Owen._
  2. _Buy something nice for Dani._
  3. _Get the money to buy something nice for Dani._
  4. _Switch #2 and #3._



“Brilliant, Jamie.” Rebecca turns to Dani with a smile. “That’s something we always wanted,” she brags – Dani feels the comment hit like a grenade, all barely-contained fire and irritation. She has the urge to interrupt, to protect Jamie, to tell the woman in front of her that the audition was _no thanks to her_ and it was Jamie’s hard work – but she sets her jaw and resists.

Dani peers cautiously at Jamie. While she seems to be easing a bit, she can tell she’s still not comfortable in the interaction – so she takes it upon herself to play hero. “Pretty early tomorrow morning, actually. We should probably be heading out soon, right?” She squeezes Jamie’s arm, both reassuring and protective.

“Yeah, you’re uh – you’re probably right,” Jamie manages. “Wait outside and I’ll be out in a minute?”

Dani smiles sweetly and lingers for a moment before heading over to say goodbye to Owen and Hannah.

Sensing the end of the conversation, Rebecca chimes back in. “She’s sharp, that one,” she remarks. “I rather like her.”

Jamie nods. “Yeah. I’m quite fond myself.” This, at least, is a whole truth.

She’s quieter this time when she replies. “Listen, I’m proud of all you’re doing, Jamie. I know we went our separate ways, but that won’t ever change,” she offers apologetically. “I’m not sure how long you’re staying, but I’d love for you to meet Peter while we’re all here. We’re at the Edison until Sunday.”

“That’d be lovely, thanks,” Jamie lies through her teeth. “I’ll see if I can give you a call.”

“Take care,” Rebecca smiles.

“You too, ‘Becca.” Jamie finds that, after all the rehearsing and sleepless nights wondering what she’d say if they ever crossed paths - when she wishes Rebecca well, she _does_ mean it.

“That was brave, what you did in there,” Dani starts once Jamie’s joined her again outside. They sit on the steps of an old brownstone across the street and watch the stragglers pour out into the night – Dani’s pilfered a cup of awful coffee from the hotel attached to the bar, but it’s enough to keep away the chill as they pass the drink between them. “You okay?”

“Wouldn’t hardly call it that,” Jamie grudges. She grinds a long-burned cigarette butt into ash with the heel of her boot and stares at her feet. “I was scared. We both know it.”

Dani knocks into her arm and ignores her protests about holding the hot drink. “Everyone gets scared sometimes. It’s what you do about it that matters,” she says simply.

“Hadn’t seen her in six years,” Jamie sniffs. “The last time I did, it was as she walked out the door. Can you believe she said _we_ always wanted the audition?” Jamie bristles.

Dani waits quietly, stares at her even as Jamie keeps her gaze focused straight ahead. She notices the brunette wringing her hands nervously, and gently hands her the coffee cup to keep her busy. She’s fighting herself to open up, Dani thinks – so she just listens.

“Thanks,” she acknowledges, collecting her thoughts. “We’d started dating right before the both of us came to the States. Things were finally – smooth, between us. ‘Becca had gotten accepted into law school, was getting ready to go. We’d agreed to do the distance thing, but she was in-state so it wasn’t trouble for me to come visit.” She takes a long drink, grimaces. “Where’d you get this, bottom of the pond?”

She waits.

“Tough crowd,” Jamie deadpans. “Sorry. Anyway, I’d gone to the shops the week before – bought a shiny engagement ring. Wasn’t much, but we both knew what we had.” She shakes her head. “Bloody thing burnt a hole in my bedside table, kept me up at night. Guess I should’ve known. Day I got up the guts to ask her, I had it in my pocket most of the day, just… _waiting_ for the right moment. We went out for a lovely dinner, sat down at home like we always did – and before I could ask her, she said we needed to talk. Thought we’d be better off taking some time while she focused on school. So, I put the ring back in the drawer and waited – and while I did, she met Peter Quint, and just like that,” she snaps her fingers, “it was all over. She _thanked me_ ,” Jamie seethes. “She thanked me for the time we had together, and said we’d be good as friends. I was too broken up to hear it – so I had a one-night stand with some aged bourbon, went back to the shops, pawned the ring, and bought this old girl,” she pats the trumpet case. “Had some extra for the rent, too.”

Dani winces, and Jamie notices. “S’okay. Old wounds, yeah? I think that’s why I was so scared. Was afraid to admit she might’ve been right.”

“Even if you were scared, you stood in there and faced your past. That’s what counts.” The blonde knocks into her elbow reassuringly.

She cracks a smile. “Three hours ago, we were strangers, and now you’re giving me life advice? Can we go back to the part where you were all dejected and I had to talk you down?”

Dani grins and takes a long drink from the coffee cup, passing it back. “Someone pretty special told me once that if you’re lucky enough to recognize an opportunity, you just have to be brave enough to take the jump. Seemed important, I don’t know,” she laughs.

“Gotta be careful, twisting my own words on me like that,” Jamie challenges. “If you weren’t taken, I’d be half tempted to fall in love with you right now.”

Jamie doesn’t know how to tell her that she already has.

So she winks, _deflects,_ Dani blushes, and the rest of the coffee drains between them as they fall back into easy conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I say this a lot, but this chapter was one of my favorites. I loved getting the chance to combine some of Jamie's backstory from The Haunting of Bly Manor with the protagonist, Nick's, from Before We Go. We're almost wrapped up with this story and I fully intend to have it finished in the next few days so it's done before Christmas for you all! Many thanks for reading, commenting, and sticking with me along the way.
> 
> Also, Rebecca's not a horrible person - I actually love her character and could go on about how she deserved better - she just was the first person that came to mind when I was trying to reuse characters from the series here.


	7. the future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their pasts reckoned with, Dani and Jamie turn to the uncertain future as their night comes to an end.

**_Dani_ **

She’s working on her elevator pitch as she waits for Jamie outside the bar, because, _honestly._ No Hollywood screenwriter could dream of the night she’s had.

Just a few hours ago, she was resigned to her fate after missing her train home. She had no options, no money, and no way of communicating with a soul that could help her – even then, there were few people that could’ve helped her. All she had to her name was a ticking time bomb disguised as a marriage.

But then there was Jamie.

Stubborn, determined, brilliant Jamie – a stranger, who had taken her flaws and dead ends and refused to give up until she’d singlehandedly saved Dani’s marriage. And here she was, sitting on the well-worn steps of a brownstone, sipping on a (terrible) cup of coffee, hiding – while brave Jamie faced her demons inside that bar.

That feeling in her stomach, she realized, was guilt.

Jamie had done everything but move a mountain for her, having just met her, and Dani couldn’t muster up the courage to do the same. Maybe it wasn’t guilt, but resentment, she thought idly.

She doesn’t have time to spiral into that line of thought, as Jamie pushes open the door of the bar, visibly sighed, and catches her eye across the street. With a sigh of relief, the brunette stuffs her hands into her pockets and makes her way over to the steps – and if Dani didn’t know better, she’d say she almost looks worse for having finally closed that chapter on her past.

She tries to level a joke, just like Jamie would’ve done for her - but she deflects, and Dani feels a frown threatening to betray her own confidence. She feels it creep further as Jamie opens up, spilling her story and her own faults into the night. When she’s finished, Dani shifts gears and hands over a bit of optimism – this time, it works.

“Three hours ago, we were strangers, and now you’re giving me life advice? Can we go back to the part where you were all dejected and I had to talk you down?” Jamie cracks a smile, and Dani knows that she’s got her figured out.

So she grins and takes a long drink from the coffee cup, passing it over. Before she can stop herself, her next words are tumbling forward. “Someone pretty special told me once that if you’re lucky enough to recognize an opportunity, you just have to be brave enough to take the jump. Seemed important, I don’t know.”

She laughs, but it’s only half-there as her brain wages its own civil war – she can’t decide whether she wants to run or hide more. _Stupid,_ she thinks. This whole night was about saving her marriage, and now she’s gone and flirted with the (beautiful) stranger who’d made it possible.

It should feel worse than it does.

“Gotta be careful, twisting my own words on me like that,” Jamie challenges. “If you weren’t taken, I’d be half tempted to fall in love with you right now.”

_Oh._

Dani’s stomach does a flip any Olympic diver would be proud of, and she’s frozen by the look in Jamie’s eyes. It’s care, and warmth, and something she doesn’t know if she’s seen before. Eddie has _certainly_ never looked at her like that – _and if she didn’t know better…_

She puts the brakes on that train of thought, and clears her throat (and the air) between them before she does something truly regrettable.

So Dani stands, climbs down the set of steps, and offers Jamie her hand. “I have an idea,” she grins, before leading them down the street the way they’d come.

To her credit, Jamie lets herself be pulled about a block before she protests with a laugh. “Where are you taking me? I lead you around for three hours and suddenly you’ve got the New York grid system memorized?”

“Just the important parts,” Dani counters, and slows them to a stop in front of a cluster of apartment buildings. They’d passed these residences on the way to the bar, and she’s willing to bet money that Jamie had been too anxious about their destination to have paid attention to the oversized neon sign in the basement window. Her suspicions are all but confirmed when Jamie cocks an eyebrow and looks around, then settles on Dani’s face for answers.

“Uh, think you got the wrong destination, Poppins,” she chuckles. She playfully pushes on Dani’s shoulders, spinning her in a circle for effect. “GPS might need recalibrating.”

Dani laughs and swats at her. “Stop, you’ll make me dizzy. No, I’m pretty sure I got it handled.” She gestures to the neon sign – _PSYCHIC ADVISOR._ “I thought, since we both faced our past tonight, we could get a look at the future.”

It’s cheesy, and they both know it – but Dani had been practicing that line nearly the entire time she was waiting outside. It’d be criminal to let it go unsaid after that much effort.

“Not you too, Dani.” Jamie groans dramatically, mimes like she might faint. “You’re turning into Owen. All these ‘clairvoyants’ do is spout something vague at ‘ya, and let your brain fill in the rest. Plus, no psychic in their right mind would want to look at the two of us. We’re train wrecks,” she deadpans. “And – “

She’s cut off by the bang of a garbage can from down below, and like a sign from above, it’s the psychic – or, the psychic’s assistant, at the very least – dressed in a coat and house slippers.

Jamie narrows her eyes. “One guess, you _knew_ we were coming?” she intones

The psychic grins. “Sound travels,” he points at the storm drain under their feet. “It’s trash day, actually. Are you two coming inside or what?”

“We don’t have any money,” Dani admits.

“I know,” the man replies simply, and heads back inside with a dismissive wave.

The two of them exchange skeptical glances, before Dani offers her hand again. “Come on. It’ll be an adventure.”

Jamie rolls her eyes and lets herself be led down the stairs and into uncertain territory. “ _He knows,”_ she whispers conspiratorially.

“I have trouble sleeping, so I could use the company,” the psychic drawls as they step into the (living room? foyer?) space of the man’s apartment.

The room is a horrifying conglomerate of ‘70’s and ‘80’s furnishings – beaded partitions separate a sitting area from the kitchen, and the sofa is upholstered in _crushed velvet_ , of all things. The man’s armchair matches. Various potted plants line the windowsills and hang in the corners of the room, and a record player that might very well be a gramophone ages near a box television set.

The psychic sits opposite them, as Dani and Jamie crush in on the old couch. He regards them only marginally, seemingly unphased by their (undoubtedly) worn appearance and close proximity. He’s probably in his late 60s, judging by the smile lines wrinkles on his face, and the thinning grey hair cropped close to his head. “So, who wants to go first?”

Dani leans forward. “There’s no, I don’t know, tarot cards or a crystal ball or something?

The man chuckles. “Oh, I used to. My wife said it’d be good for business if people could feel like they were physically participating in their reading.” He leans back in his chair with the relaxed wisdom of an old professional. “But the truth is, I just look at you and tell you what I see. No mystery, no parlor tricks. So, who’s first?”

They point at one another at the same time, crossing words in an amalgamation of “you first” and “start with her”, and the man smiles. He settles on Jamie, and squints his eyes like he’s trying to pull apart some divine information. “I’m seeing… an instrument? Maybe a trumpet? You’re a musician,” he winks, making visible acknowledgement of Jamie’s trumpet case.

Jamie grins and cocks an eyebrow. “Your gift is truly staggering.”

“Works every time, even the skeptics,” the man laughs. Then, his gaze drifts to Dani, and she feels herself caught by his words when he speaks, suddenly serious. “What are we going to do with you, young lady?” He pauses a beat. “You’re at a crossroads, dear. You think you know exactly what your problem is – and you’re exactly wrong.”

She swallows. “Why’s that?”

“You think you’re trapped by what’s happening to you.” The psychic reaches for the cup of tea perched on the coffee table between them and takes a drink. “Actually, you have choices. You’re just afraid to look at your options.”

Dani leans forward on her elbows. She glances at Jamie, and sees concern mark her features.

“You could walk away,” the man offers, and Dani feels her heart sink.

“From what?” she challenges.

The psychic eases back in his chair again. “I don’t know. But you do,” he replies simply. He fixes her with a knowing gaze. “We can always walk away. And sometimes, you should. You could have a future with this young woman sitting next to you,” he smiles. “And no, I don’t say that to every couple that comes in here.”

Beside her, there’s an awkward shuffle and a cleared throat at his comment.

“Jamie’s wonderful, but I’m actually married to someone else,” Dani shrugs.

“You asked me about your choices,” the man returns. “I stand by what I see.”

Dani takes a moment to consider what he’s said. “But what if – what if the things that matter, those choices aren’t up to me?”

A car horn blares outside, and she feels Jamie startle. Sham or not, she’s clearly invested too.

“You know the most important thing I’ve learned after all my years of marriage? After an entire life with one person?” He takes another sip of tea, seemingly perfectly at ease with the revelation he’s about to deliver.

“You can’t allow the people you love to determine _how_ you love,” he says simply. Dani’s world feels like it’s just shaken on its axis.

“Easier said than done,” Jamie interjects, breaking the palpable silence between them. There’s something indecipherable in her expression.

The psychic laughs. “Sorry, no refunds.”

Something snaps, then – “Would you mind if I used your phone?”

“Sure, there’s one in the room down the hall if you’d like some privacy,” he points. “Give Jamie and I a moment to chat.”

“Picking up any lotto numbers? Maybe an anointed 8-ball?” Jamie leans back into the couch, looking for all the world confident as ever, but Dani senses her apprehension as she excuses herself from the room.

“I don’t do races, roulette, or the lottery,” the man chuckles, and Dani finds she’s unable to hear the rest of their conversation as she heads down the hallway. As the man said, she finds a white landline telephone (about as old as the rest of the décor, she guesses) on a desk in the spare room. Situated next to it is a framed photograph of the psychic and his wife, somewhere on a beach years ago. They look happy – Dani wonders when the last photograph she’d taken with Eddie was. She dials Henry’s number and waits.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hi, Henry, it’s Dani.”

“Goodness, Dani. I’ve been trying to call you – I couldn’t fetch the envelope for you. There was no spare key.”

Dani feels her blood run ice cold. “In the planter by the front door?”

“I found the planter box, yes – there was no key inside. Someone must have taken it and not put it back,” Henry explains. “I tried for any open windows or doors as well, but I couldn’t risk setting off the house alarm. I’m terribly sorry.”

“It’s okay, Henry. Thanks for trying,” Dani manages, and the line disconnects. Her eyes are watering and her throat _burns_ , and if she doesn’t get herself under control she’s going to turn into a sobbing mess in front of Jamie and the psychic. She gives a shaky laugh as she wonders what the clairvoyant would say about how _that_ relates to her future.

She puts her head in her hands, presses hard against the bridge of her nose, and wills away the tears.

When she gets back to the sitting room, Jamie’s thumbing through a book of old Polaroids and listening intently to the man’s story about the summer he met his wife. When she meets Dani’s gaze, she knows something is wrong almost immediately.

“You alright?” she whispers.

Dani nods. Neither of them are convinced.

“ – so she comes up to me, and just… drags me on to the dance floor,” the man laughs. “She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, and I had no idea what to do. But I knew I would have made an absolute fool of myself just to spend a minute with her.”

“You both sounded perfect,” Jamie smiles. Her gaze is somewhere far away.

He leans forward, as if imparting secret wisdom. “There is no perfect. There will always be struggle. But the beauty of it all is that we get to pick who we want to struggle with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't leave you all with this *convenient* ending for both of them, now could I? (Well, I could if I wanted to be nice but I'm a fic writer so I'm basically here purely to create chaos)


	8. expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW/ for some homophobia/comphet in Dani's past, if you squint. It's right at the beginning and I bracketed it with some paragraph breaks if you want to skip ahead!

**_Jamie_ **

So they walk, again, out into the New York night. It’s nearly 5 a.m. when they reach a pathway near the waterfront of the East River. It’s a beautiful view, and one of Jamie’s favorite spots to play in the summertime – a carousel glitters in the distance and the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges traverse the skyline.

Dani’s been uncharacteristically silent next to her, and she gives her a gentle nudge. “He’s only clairvoyant, what does he know?”

There’s no response, only the shuffle of their feet on the pavement and the lapping of the water at the bank.

“You know, I feel a bit slighted. Didn’t even talk about my future,” she grumbles jokingly. “Don’t suppose you want to take a shot at it, do you?”

“I appreciate you trying to cheer me up,” Dani says finally, breaking the one-way conversation. She sits on a nearby bench, and Jamie joins her, slotting in at the far end so she can properly turn and look at her. “This is a huge mess, and I’m sorry I dragged you into it.”

Jamie nods, leans forward on her elbows. “That’s a no, then?”

Dani looks at her. “You really want to know your future?”

“Maybe not,” she deadpans.

Dani sighs and gazes out over the river. With her hands, she motions, pulling back the dimensional veil to see some hidden truth written there. Jamie chuckles.

“You’re a working musician until your lips fall off,” she starts. “You’re revered. You have a – “

“Sports car?” Jamie interjects.

“This is _my_ reading,” Dani chides. “You have a dog, functioning credit cards. You fall in love with a woman who deserves you and brings out the best in you. She trusts you,” she finishes.

Jamie looks at her and smiles, and Dani finally turns to face her. “If I ever got that lucky, I wouldn’t plan on letting her down,” she offers. It’s a bridge between them – a _not-quite_ acknowledgement of her own feelings, and an invitation to explain the trouble in Dani’s own relationship. The other woman takes it for what it is.

“When Eddie went away to college to get his degree, and I was just starting study to be an art consultant, we did the long-distance thing. I’d talk to him a few times a week, less if we were busy, but it worked for us. He never liked it when I went out with my friends, so when he was gone I took full advantage of that,” she smiles wistfully.

“Dani Clayton, you animal,” Jamie mocks.

“Not like that,” Dani laughs. “It was just nice to meet people outside of my circle with Eddie. We were at this bar one night, and I met a girl – Lauren. We’d actually gone to the same high school, but she graduated a year ahead of me, so we never really crossed paths. Anyway, we got to talking, and something about it just felt – different. All of my friends had always talked about… _butterflies_ when they started dating their boyfriends, and I never had that with Eddie – but I did with Lauren. It felt easy, you know? Like, there wasn’t something I was expected to say or a way I was supposed to act, and it was so – I don’t know. Freeing, I guess. We spent a lot of time together over the summer, and just before she left town to go home, she told me she had feelings for me. I didn’t know how to react, and I blew it off saying I was dating Eddie, but deep down I knew I fell for her too. It made me wonder if this was really the only time I’d had those feelings, and – I realized it wasn’t.” She shrugs.

Jamie searches her face, but sees only recollection written there.

“We lost touch after that. Eddie came home and did his last two years of school online, and we got married not that long after,” she shrugs. “I knew it was what my mom would’ve wanted for me. She was religious, conservative – I think the idea of her daughter being with a woman would’ve torn her apart. What the psychic said about not allowing people to define the way we love – that really hit close to home, real _vision_ or not. Some part of me always wondered if I made the right choice, doing what I did and getting married to him. A big part of me wondered if I settled, and more often than not, that side won out.”

“So when he left for Los Angeles, I put my wedding ring in an envelope with a letter, explaining everything – why I couldn’t stay. This was my first buy on my own – I would get a nice check, make a clean break, find a place to settle down. I could finally live the way that felt right, instead of the way I thought others wanted. So I was sitting in a bar tonight – last night, I guess,” she amends. “And I started thinking: if I left, really _left,_ the way I had planned, it would’ve only been the bad stuff he’d remember. I can still love him,” she says simply. “Even if it’s not the way he wants me to. And I owe him more than an 18th-century breakup text,” she figures.

Jamie can’t help but laugh, and it lightens the heaviness that’s fallen around them.

“I realized that If I went home and I faced him, I could explain everything. I think he’d understand, and we could work something out, or move on, but on better terms. Remember the good stuff. But if he opened the letter – I wouldn’t be able to come back from that. We wouldn’t ever be able to come back from that. So I make up my mind, and I go to grab my bag to leave – “

“And it wasn’t there,” Jamie finishes.

Dani nods. “God,” she scoffs. “I really wish the psychic was right.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t _have_ a choice anymore.” She’s almost whispering, but the words ring loud between them.

Dani scoots close to put her head on Jamie’s shoulder. “It’s possible, isn’t it? It’s possible to meet somebody that’s perfect for you, even if you’re committed to somebody else?”

“The way I see it, no,” Jamie replies, shoving down the skip her heart does at her comment. “If you’re committed to someone, how could you find perfection in something else?”

Dani sniffles, and Jamie feels it shake her shoulder. She hunches down, softens the space. “You’re just telling me what I want to hear.”

“If that’s what you want to hear, I reckon you’ve already made your mind up.” She sighs. “If you really feel in your bones that it’s right, then trust yourself.”

Blue eyes look up to meet hers, threatening to spill over. Jamie smiles fondly down at her. “We love who we love,” she offers.

Dani squeezes her eyes shut, and Jamie holds her close while the tears fall. The river laps at its banks, and there are no more stones to turn between them.

The elevator in the hotel plays some modern interpretation of “’Round Midnight” as they make their way to the room Jamie’s shared with Hannah for the weekend – it’s tinny through the old speakers, but it gets a smile out of Dani nonetheless.

Jamie knocks on the door and slides her keycard into the lock, pushing it open carefully while she shields her eyes comically. “Hannah? Owen? If I walk in on the two of you up to some funny business, I’m billing you for therapy,” she announces. There’s no reply, so she steps in front of the door and motions Dani inside. “You first,” she grins.

The lights are all on, but the beds are still turned down – a sure sign no one’s been in the room since they both left it earlier. Jamie breathes a sigh of relief, drops her trumpet case on the desk near her duffel bag, and plops down on the double bed nearest the window. “Right brilliant idea, carrying that thing around all night.”

Dani regards her with a questioning look, a small smile on her face.

“It’s small but it gets heavy,” Jamie defends herself. “You can use the shower if you like. Might be nice to get some hot water after being out in the cold all night.” She shrugs off her coat and boots, and moves closer to the heater in the corner of the room.

“I think I might,” Dani agrees, pushing open the bathroom door. She grabs a robe from the closet and ducks inside, only to poke her head back out when she hears Jamie shout from in the room.

“Sorry. I just remembered – we have a food and beverage credit the wedding party paid for and I’m _starved_. Room service?”

Dani smiles. “Surprise me.”

Jamie grins as she flips through the menu, and orders a few staples. She hears the hot water click off a few minutes later, and there’s a visible change in humidity in the room as Dani slides the bathroom door open. She whistles. “Shame I left my rain boots at home. Seems like it might storm,” she deadpans.

She’s rewarded with a pillow to the face for her efforts, and laughs. “Don’t start a fight you don’t intend to finish, Poppins,” she warns.

“I seem to remember someone saying ‘might be nice to get some hot water’ not that long ago,” Dani shoots back with a grin. She motions towards Jamie’s position in the corner. “At least I’m not the one hiding by the radiator from the cold.”

“I’m in a tee shirt,” Jamie protests. “Wouldn’t be if I were freezing.”

Dani nods. “And a _relic_ if I’ve ever seen one. Are you even old enough to know Blondie?”

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Jamie laughs, ambling off the bed to throw pillows in Dani’s direction.

The blonde tries to dodge the onslaught, but she’s simply overmatched – she calls for a surrender through giggles moments later. “Okay, okay, I concede.”

“You’re bloody right, _you concede_ ,” Jamie grins. “Never lost a pillow fight and I’m right proud of my record.” She picks up her well-fluffed ammunition, depositing them back on Hannah’s bed and her own. “Food should be up in a few minutes, try not to polish it off before I get done,” she fixes Dani with a warning.

“No promises,” Dani shoots back.

“I’ve taught you too well,” Jamie groans.

As it turns out, she’s done just as room service knocks on the door. She greets the man with an overeager ‘thank you’ and a tip out of their dwindling petty cash, realizing only afterwards that he’d probably gotten the wrong idea seeing the two of them in their matching hotel robes. She can’t bring herself to care, instead carting the food back in to a waiting Dani with a smile. They kick back on the bed and Jamie unveils each dish like a waiter at a five-star restaurant – a burger and fries and a few samplings off the breakfast menu, with sides to spare. She doesn’t protest when Dani steals fries off of her plate, and she offers the same courtesy when Jamie swipes some of the hash browns from her meal – the whole exchange feels awfully domestic, and she can’t help but glance at the clock foretelling the end of their night, willing it to slow.

When they’ve finished, she stacks their plates neatly on the cart, and slides open the oversized window to a view of midtown Manhattan. The Empire State Building glows golden in the distance, and ambient light from Times Square floods into the area even from their vantage point some blocks away. “Last hours in New York, then. Anything you feel like doing?”

Dani buries herself in the pillows. “I don’t think I could move even if I wanted to. It’d be less painful just to cut my feet off right now.”

“I like that answer,” Jamie chuckles. She leans over and fishes the pen and notepad off of the desk. “So – how would you rate your stay?”

“What?” Dani laughs. “Are you actually filling out the customer survey?”

“This is serious business, ‘course I am.”

There’s a shuffle, and Dani props herself on her elbows next to Jamie at the foot of the bed as she uncaps the pen and reads.

“Cleanliness?” She gazes down at their matching hotel robes. “Much improved,” she decides with a laugh.

“Location?” Dani motions for the pen and checks ‘excellent’ on the sheet.

“Décor? Art’s shite, but we can fix that,” Jamie laughs, ticking the box. “Would you be likely to visit again in the future?” She glances at Dani and sees a warm smile on her face, and thinks she would probably be happy living in this minute for the rest of her days if it came down to it. “Let’s leave that one blank,” she concludes, dropping the paper and pen with a flourish.

“Wait, you missed one, “ Dani objects, picking up the form. “Overall, how would you rate your stay?” She thinks for a moment – after the night they’ve had and the past they’ve both confronted, it would be easy to avoid answering – which is why Jamie’s taken by surprise when Dani replies simply, “exceeds expectations.”

“That’s all there is to it, then,” Jamie acknowledges. “Now,” she grins. “Fancy a bit of hotel graffiti while we wait for the sun to come up?”

“Are you sure we haven’t met before?” Dani laughs.

“I’m sure I’d remember if we had,” she counters, and flashes an easy smile – and so they draw, they share stories, and they wait for the sunrise.

Some time later, Jamie’s the one to break the rhythm. “I don’t know if I’m going to audition, in the morning.”

Dani shoots up from where she’s lying down at the head of the mattress. “What? Why?”

“Been thinking about it all night,” Jamie admits. “What ‘Becca said.” She takes a deep breath, counting the clusters of popcorn molding on the ceiling instead of looking at Dani. “What if the gig was really what _she_ wanted? She used to push it pretty hard on me – what if I convinced myself I wanted it too, and I really didn’t? I don’t know.”

“Jamie?”

“Yeah?” She turns her head, and finds Dani looking at her amusedly.

“After tonight, I don’t believe in coincidences,” she says simply. “Somehow, one of the worst nights of my life has also been the best. I feel like I was supposed to miss that train and meet you at Grand Central. And if I know anything about you, I know that you love music and you love _playing_ music – even if no one’s watching. You worked hard and you got the audition on your own. I don’t think you would’ve done that if you didn’t know deep down that it was what you wanted, too.”

Jamie nods. “I think I just – I want to see if I’m good enough,” she settles on. “Not for her. For me.” She looks at Dani again, and sees the wheels turning – so she nudges. “What’s on your mind?”

“I think maybe both of us have things that we’ve been putting off for way too long,” Dani sighs. “But I also think I have to see what I can do to make things right with _my_ past.”

And really, she shouldn’t be surprised – Jamie’s felt Dani slip through her fingers with every tick of the clock since the moment they met – but the sting of seeing the end cuts just the same. She’s no stranger to bleeding for the ones she loves, but this wound, she thinks, will scar.

She knows she’d scar a thousand times over to stay in this moment.


	9. what we leave behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others."

The cab clatters down 42nd Street in the early morning glow, and Jamie knocks into Dani’s shoulder reassuringly as she stares out the windows at the passing sights. There’s an apprehension in the air, and the way that Dani tenses when they slow to a stop in front of Grand Central lets Jamie know she’s not alone in the feeling. She helps her out of the taxi, and they walk hand-in-hand into the building. The ghosts of the previous night are nowhere to be found among the early morning crowd at the terminal – the commotion of the city is in full effect, undeterred by the mileage between the two of them.

But in New York, everyone has a story – theirs is not special, Jamie knows. But she can’t shake the feeling that what they’ve been through will change her forever. She doesn’t think she minds.

Jamie walks her down to the portal for the tracks, and lets their hands swing free from each other as she slows to a stop. “Guess this is it, then.”

Dani stares back, tears in her eyes as she nods. She sniffles, gives a small laugh, and gestures towards the payphone on the wall nearby. “You know I’ll never be able to look at one of these the same way again, right?”

Jamie chuckles, even as she feels her own eyes begin to burn and water. “Job well done, I reckon,” and she leans over to take the phone off the hook.

“Hey, Jamie. It’s you from the future,” she starts. She covers the headset and cocks an eyebrow at Dani. “She bought it, the sap. Yeah no, sorry. Listen – you’re going to be in Grand Central one night, thinking of all the reasons in the world not to go to a wedding reception to see the girl that broke your heart, and you’re going to meet someone. You’re gonna help her try to get home – of course she’s beautiful, stop interrupting – and at first she’s going to seem a little cold. She’s going to take all your money, you’re probably going to get punched in the face, but stick with her. You’re going to need her a lot more than she needs you.”

She looks at Dani, with a blush on her cheeks and tears in her blue eyes, and smiles. “At the end of the night, you’re going to want to say some things. Don’t,” she says simply. “Don’t ruin it. It’s nothing she doesn’t already know. Just – give her a hug, wish her good luck, and thank her. For reminding you to be brave, for trusting you even when it’s hard, and for showing you that you can love more than one person in this life.” She’s crying now, and goes to hang up the phone.

“Wait, wait,” Dani interjects. She takes the handset. “Jamie? It’s Dani. Don’t pay your credit card bill that month. Okay – bye.” The receiver clatters back on the hook, and Dani reaches up to brush a stray curl out of Jamie’s face, wiping her tears with a gentle thumb. “She said she wasn’t planning on it,” she deadpans. A beat passes between them, and a PA announcement chimes somewhere in the distance. “I don’t know how to do this,” she admits, voice breaking.

Jamie smiles fondly down at her and pulls her into a hug. “ ’S okay. I know,” she calms.

As they break apart, Dani grabs the lapels of Jamie’s coat and pulls her down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, Jamie. For everything.”

She flushes and stuffs her hands into her coat pocket with a shrug. “I should be thanking you,” she replies. “For now, just… good luck, Dani.”

It was inevitable since the moment they met, but seeing Dani turn and walk away from her feels like losing a part of herself. She sniffles and bites back tears, and adjusts the trumpet case on her arm as she watches her silhouette grow smaller in the distance.

This time, Dani does turn around – they nod, Jamie waves, and there’s nothing more to be said or felt that they both don’t already know.

She’s never been a believer in love at first sight, but she’ll maintain until the day she dies that she’s found it here – with a stranger, in a city far from her home, in just a few short hours.

Only when her silhouette has vanished among the crowd on the tracks does Jamie turn around, take a deep breath, and walk from the platform. She wonders idly how many people have parted like this, in the very same spot – losing each other for the moment, or losing each other forever.

With time to spare before her audition, Jamie retreats to her marble corner, unzips her trumpet case, and begins to play. If she strains, she thinks she can hear the train pulling away from the station. It feels like it’s taken most of her heart with it – a blonde, undoubtedly at a window seat, watching the lights of the city morning fade away.

Dani’s miles deep in her thoughts, seated on the train as it waits for departure from the station, when a uniformed employee politely asks to see her ticket for validation. She digs in her coat pocket and produces the fare, and he thanks her before moving to the next passenger. As she replaces the ticket, she frowns at finding another scrap of paper at the bottom of her pocket. With some effort, she manages to pry it loose, and finds waiting for her the hotel’s customer service survey – Jamie must’ve slipped it in her pocket when they left.

She shakes her head and smiles, reading over the pen print on the page. Added at the bottom in neatly printed capital letters are the words “turn over” with an arrow – and so she does, flipping the half-page to reveal a message scrawled on the back.

She scans the print, folds the page, and puts it back in her coat pocket with a smile.

There’s an old term she’s learned in her travels – _awumbuk_ – the emptiness after people depart and the feeling of being alone in a place where people usually are. Staring out the window of the train, watching the people pass through the underground of the subway station amidst the last call for departure, she feels the emptiness in her bones. Dani knows though, in some deep-seated piece of her soul, that after the hollow, after the _empty_ comes a return to life – a life that she can picture if she’s just brave enough to jump.

So, Dani _jumps._

As the doors chime and slide shut behind her, she runs from the platform and bursts back into the light of the marble lobby, hit with a wave of déjà vu as she recalls her headlong leap forward into uncertainty just a few hours earlier. But as she catches sight of the trumpet player entertaining the early morning crowd across the station, she finds that she doesn’t long for a way out anymore. The war in her chest has battled, bled, scarred, and declared a cease fire that blooms hopeful in her heart when she sees Jamie.

 _There’s no reason to dwell on your past when you can see your future_ , she thinks.

She crosses the remainder of the space between them; stands and watches amusedly with the rest of the crowd as Jamie finishes playing, eyes shut as she bleeds forth a beautiful melody from the instrument. For good measure, she fishes the hotel survey out of her pocket, note scrawled on the back and all, and drops it into the open trophy case with a grin. Dani thinks she could very well burst out laughing at the look on Jamie’s face when she opens her eyes and sees her standing there – but the surprise fades into something warm, brilliant, _knowing_ , and steals the air out of the room entirely.

It’s tunnel vision as Jamie clears her throat, acknowledges the applause from the audience, and climbs to her feet to meet Dani’s eyes. She’s just a bit too far out of reach – deliberately, Dani knows, always giving her the choice – but her proximity is enough to hope she can’t hear her heartbeat hammering away.

“Going to miss your ride,” Jamie manages, voice barely loud enough to hear. She shakes her head sadly. “You said you needed to make things right, yeah?”

“I got your note,” Dani replies breathlessly. “I do – need to make things right. But I also know that this is the realest thing I’ve ever felt, even in one night. And I think I’d be stupid to leave that behind too.”

Jamie’s expression flickers between happiness and disbelief as she tries to fight back a smile, failing miserably. “ ‘Scuse us a second, folks?” she demurs to the remains of their musician’s audience, stepping all the way into Dani’s space. She’s close enough that Jamie can feel the warmth radiating off of her, flushed after making her split-second dash from the train, and she doesn’t think Dani’s ever looked more beautiful. “You sure?” she asks gently, reaching up to skim a thumb across her cheekbone but going no further.

And if Dani was breathless before, then – all she can do is nod, grab the edges of Jamie’s jacket, and pull her in. She thinks she hears her mumble something that sounds like “thank fuck” as she wraps her arms around her waist and kisses her, soft and sure and everything she’s wanted.

At some point, Jamie leans back enough to rest her forehead against Dani’s, searching her eyes with a brilliant grin as some remnants of the crowd break into scattered applause. “Much as I’d love to keep on with this, maybe we’d best step out of the spotlight,” she laughs.

Dani beams back at her, smoothing Jamie’s lapels as she blushes. “What now?”

Just like before, Jamie’s there with an offered arm and a smile. “Have you ever seen New York at Christmas, Dani Clayton?”

“Can’t say I have. What’s the catch?” she grins.

“Afraid you’re stuck with me as your tour guide. And I might tote you ‘round to a band audition later.”

“I think I can agree to that.” Dani loops her arm through Jamie’s and grins. They collect their things and push open the doors, feeling as if they’re truly _seeing_ the city with new eyes, expectations and opportunities be damned.

As they cross the street, wading through the crowd of people outside, Dani looks back and checks the massive clock perched high above Grand Central Terminal – finding that for the first time in a long while, she doesn’t fear the minutes ticking away.

Later, Jamie will pull Dani’s note out of the bottom of her trumpet case and tuck it away in her bedside table. And much, _much_ later, she’ll hide an engagement ring beneath it for safekeeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATED 12/20 for some minor grammar bugs that have been squashed.
> 
> And just like that we’ve made it to the end! I wrestled with myself for a long time over the end of this one, and ended up rewriting it about three times – this is really the only bit where it deviates from the film, as brilliant as the ending is (I won’t spoil that if you haven’t seen it, but if you have you know what I’m talking about) – but with these two, it just feels right that they end up together in any universe, even the alternate ones. 
> 
> I know I’ve said this throughout the work, but truly thanks to everyone who’s read, commented, and left kudos on this. You all are the best and really kept me moving forward on this! I hope I did it justice for you all.
> 
> As a last Easter egg: the word Dani supplies is the description for the feeling Jamie has in chapter 1 that starts our story. I thought it might be nice to connect them all the way through without them knowing. :)


End file.
